


to a new life on a new shoreline

by punkaspadfoot



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Homophobia, and terrible parents who are potentially emotionally abusive but never described in detail, food/mentions/descriptions of food, slight biphobia, tw for:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkaspadfoot/pseuds/punkaspadfoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke messed some things up back at home, but she doesn't have time to think about it because her mother's dragged her six hours away for a family vacation. Stuck in a too-big house in a small tourist town with none of her friends talking to her, chatting up the girl working the ice cream stand doesn't seem like such a bad idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Clarke had imagined her summer vacation, it had been filled with trips to the pool with Raven and Octavia. Maybe they'd all make their way to the lake a few hours away in Bellamy's car, and Jasper and Monty would bring some booze. She'd draw and paint and sleep, and walk around the empty house in sweaters when the air conditioning made it too cold. That was how last summer had been, and the summer before it, and it was what Clarke was looking forward to. Her mother, however, apparently had other plans, which come to fruition as Clarke somehow finds herself headed north, the smell of salt water filling the car as they enter the small town they'll be staying in.

"The house I rented is beautiful," her mother informs her as they make their way down a road parallel to a beach. "It's one of the first houses they built in the town."

Clarke smiles and nods a little. "Cool." Her mother's trying to make a good conversation, and Clarke's not mean. She just doesn't know what to talk about, and at this point doesn't really want to talk about much of anything. If they'd gone on this trip a year or two before, before she'd met all of her friends and actually had been able to define who she is, it would be a different story. But she's made a life apart from her mother, and at this point it's not easy to let her back in.

They pass a general store with people eating out in the front, and then an ice cream shop with two lines of people ordering from windows stretching out.

"It's just soft-serve," Clarke's mother tells her as they pass, "but it's supposed to be pretty good."

Clarke nods again and looks out the passenger window at the ocean. They've been driving for hours, and although Clarke slept most of the time, she's ready to get out of the car.

They pull up to the house, and her mother wasn't lying. It's beautiful. And huge. It's at least three stories, and looks like it could house about four families at once.

"It's a little big," her mother says, opening her door, "but it has a great view."

A little big is an understatement, but Clarke guesses that it's not too bad. At least this way she and her mother can both be in the house all day and not have to see each other at all.

"How about we get ourselves settled and then walk down to the beach?" The sun will set in just a little while, and Clarke wants to see what it will look like over the water. That, and it wouldn't be good if Clarke annoyed her mother this early into the trip. While Clarke knows it's inevitable, she might as well try her hardest to postpone it.

They pass a woman walking her dog as they walk the curved road down the hill to the beach. She's is holding the hand of another woman, and the second leans in to kiss the shoulder of the arm that's holding the leash. Abby pretends that she doesn't notice and Clarke rolls her eyes. Her mother pretends that she doesn't notice that, too.

The beach is more crowded than Clarke would've expected. There are a lot of people out walking their dogs, and Clarke smiles at a black lab that struggles against its leash to try to make its way to her. It's owner doesn't seem to notice, though, and neither does Clarke's mother.

What she does notice is that Clarke's staring off into the distance, not involved in this 'family' vacation at all.

"Why don't we try out that ice cream we passed?" she suggests, attempting to start a conversation or something. And Clarke knows that she's trying, she really does, so she nods and smiles appreciatively.

The line is long, people coming for dessert after their dinners. Clarke pulls out her phone, and she knows that her mother doesn't like it, but she sees a few missed texts from Bellamy.

(JUN 19, 17:23) o heard you left

(JUN 19, 17:23) she's pissed

(JUN 19, 17:24) she thinks ur running away

Clarke sighs, and while Abby looks at her curiously, she doesn't question it.

(JUN 19, 17:24) thanks

and then

 

(JUN 19, 17:25) sorry

(JUN 19, 17:25) you dont have to do this, o will hate you if she finds out

Bellamy doesn't respond by the time it's their turn to order, so Clarke shoves her phone back into her back pocket. She focuses on the task at hand, and glances at the girl working the window as she looks for a menu board. She stops. The girl is pretty, there's no denying that. Her hair is tied back in a braid, but the waviness of it makes it so there's bumps on the top of her head. It doesn't look like she's wearing any makeup either. She's beautiful, though, with green eyes and a solemn face.

"What can I get for you?" she asks, and Clarke realizes that she's been staring at her. She busies herself trying to make it look like she had been looking at the menu board behind the cashier the whole time.

"I'll have vanilla with sprinkles, please," her mother orders, and Clarke opts to just say the same thing so she can decide just what color the girl's eyes are. For artistic purposes, of course. She wishes that she'd have brought her paints with her, but they're only in the town for a week. Pencils will make do until she gets home.

She's handed her ice cream and she takes a lick before moving out of the way to let the couple behind her step forward. She makes a face at the taste, but Abby doesn't notice. She's too busy paying. Clarke hates vanilla, and the sprinkles leave her mouth feeling waxy, but she doesn't say anything. It's her own fault for just repeating her mother's order, and she doesn't really trust herself to say anything, either. She's a little bit upset that her mother didn't even know something as simple as what kind of ice cream she likes, a little angry, but she ignores it. Of all the things her mother has done, not knowing her taste in ice cream is the least of her offenses.

"There's a nice little village of shops just down the street," her mother says, apparently continuing a conversation that Clarke hadn't been paying attention to. She nods, hoping that it's the right response.

"And then maybe on Wednesday we could go out for breakfast? There's a place a couple miles away, it's supposed to be amazing." Abby continues, and Clarke smiles at her, because she's trying and Clarke knows it's what she should do.

They walk back to the house together in silence only broken by Abby's few attempts at conversation. Clarke's busy planning out how she's going to draw the cashier. After a while her mother gives up on any chance at a conversation, and Clarke's normally talkative and she thinks she's upset her mother, but she can't bring herself to care much.

Clarke retreats to her bedroom as soon as she gets inside, and she pulls her sketchbook and a pen out of her backpack. She doesn't start drawing with an end goal in mind, but her hands are restless and it's way too early to go to sleep.

She ends up drawing the girl's nose, and it's possibly the creepiest thing that she's ever done. She hears the ocean from the open window, and the shrieks of children running into the frigid water become less and less frequent as families pack up for the day. By the time Clarke closes her book it's almost dark out, and she lays down in her bed without changing into pyjamas. An early night is better than making her way downstairs, where she'll be greeted with an awkward and tense silence. It wasn't like she'd even wanted to come here in the first place, and she doesn't hear the creak of the stairs when her mother comes up to check on her just as she falls asleep.

She wakes up as a seagull flies by the window that she had forgotten to shut the night before. She flips it off before yanking the blankets up over her head. A few minutes pass before Clarke decides that trying to go back to sleep is futile. As she pushes the covers off and the hair away from her face the clock on the nightstand reads 10:23. It's later than she would've expected, and she's surprised that her mother hasn't woken her up yet. Clarke had expected to be woken up early every day that they stayed here and dragged on some 'adventure' to strip malls and beaches for some forced bonding time. As she sits up in bed she hears her mother moving around downstairs, though, so apparently she had been wrong.

She coughs before she gets out of bed, deciding to forego a shower and to just put on some clothes, brush through her hair, and hope for the best.

Her mother intercepts her on the way across the hall into the bathroom.

"I didn't want to wake you up, but I heard you moving around up here. I was thinking that we could walk through town after you get ready. There are a couple of souvenir shops along the road that we can pop into."

Clarke's standing in the middle of the hallway, holding her clothes in front of her chest to hide the fact that she's not wearing a bra. Her mouth tastes disgusting from not having brushed her teeth the night before, and all she wants to do is tell her mother no and spend the rest of the day texting Octavia and Raven about how obvious her mother's attempts at making nice with her are. Then she remembers that Octavia and Raven both hate her, and her mother's looking at her with so much hope in her face that it's almost pathetic, so she nods.

"Yeah, I'll just get dressed and then we'll go, okay?"

Her mother nods, and looks thrilled, like she thought that Clarke would say no. Ignoring the fact that it had been something she had seriously considered doing not a full minute ago, Clarke feels bad. She ignores that after a moment, too, and finishes her journey to the bathroom.

She meets her mother in the kitchen, where she's leaning over a pad of sticky-notes on the counter.

"There's a cleaning service coming through," she explains, "I just want to let them know when we'll be back." Abby pulls the top note off of the pad and goes to stick it on the front door.

When Clarke's alone she picks up the pen her mother had left behind and starts to doodle on the top note. She's drawn a sun over the top half of the yellowy paper before she's struck with an idea. She writes her phone number on the bottom half, along with her first name. After a second's consideration, she writes just throw this away if you don't want it! in the remaining space, and sticks it into her wallet. Just in case, she convinces herself. Just in case.

"Ready to go?" her mother asks from the doorway, and Clarke pushes herself up from where she was leaning on the cool countertop.

The trip isn't the memory-making-beginning-at-reconciliation Clarke suspects that her mother had hoped for. Still, Clarke buys a necklace with a sharktooth for Octavia. She doesn't know if she'll ever get a chance to give it to her, but she can't stop herself from getting it. It doesn't strike her mother as odd, Clarke getting a gift for her estranged friend. Then again, Abby probably hasn't even noticed that they were fighting.

Clarke doesn't allow herself to dwell on it as she gets out of the car. Her mother says something about them spending the rest of the day relaxing in the house, because "it's only their first full day there, after all." Clarke grunts her assent and makes her way back to her room.

She stays there for all of five minutes. She checks her phone but there are no notifications. She'd known everything would be shit when everyone started hating her, but she hadn't expected it to be this boring.

She finally grabs her purse from where she'd left it on top of the dresser and heads downstairs, tired of laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

"I'm going to walk down to the ice cream place," Clarke announces once she's in the living room, and her mother looks up at her over her book.

"Again? Having ice cream every day isn't exactly the most healthy diet, Clarke."

Clarke gives her a tight smile.

"It's vacation, right?"

Abby stares at her for a second more before returning to her book. Clarke takes that as a yes and slips her sandals on. She grabs her purse and heads out of the house, pausing on the porch to tie her hair up into a ponytail. She can smell the ocean from here, and she doesn't want the wind to blow her hair into her eyes on her way down.

She sees a few families heading towards the beach as she walks down the hill, a little girl bouncing in her father's arms. It's weird, because it's been five years and even now she can feel her dad with her, sometimes.

The feeling doesn't last long, though, because she gets into the sprawling line a few houses down from the stand. Thankfully it moves quickly, and it isn't long until Clarke is standing at the window.

The girl Clarke was hoping for asks for her order, and Clarke feels lucky that she's the one at the counter, even though she'd seen her there for the past few days.

As Clarke waits for the girl to give her her ice cream (chocolate with no sprinkles, because they're disgusting), she digs around in her wallet and separates the money she owes and the tip. In possibly her stupidest move yet, she attaches the sticky note to one of the bills before she puts it in the cup on the counter. The girl hands her her ice cream, already dripping down the cone even though it isn't hot out, and Clarke gives her the rest of the money before crossing the street to the beach.

She contemplates going back to the house, but she likes the smell of the water and the sound of the waves. The house isn't very welcoming, either, with her mother sitting on the deck and finding a way to make the whole house feel stifling and impersonal. Clarke knows that her mother's trying, and she tries to appreciate it, but it feels empty. She hasn't had a real conversation with her mother since before her dad died, and at this point any attempt that Abby makes at mending their relationship doesn't fit Clarke well. She's missed five years of her life, and Clarke isn't sure if she's ready to forgive her for that.

"Hey," a quiet voice says from behind her, and Clarke turns. She's finished the cone by now, and is just holding the stained napkin crumpled up in her hand. Her eyes widen as she recognizes the girl, and her friends wouldn't let her live it down if they were there to see it. Badass Clarke Griffin, unable to speak because she has to talk to a girl she has a silly crush on before she's prepared to. Of course, if her friends were there they would have many other opinions about the situation, too, but Clarke tries to push that out of her mind as she opens her mouth to speak, just a second too late to be able to pass the pause off as natural.

"Hey," she finds herself saying back, and she gives the girl a small smile. She's normally much smoother than this, really, but something about the sound of the ocean and the fact that she won't see the girl after the week's over if she messes things up makes her shy. It might have something to do with the girl herself, too, but Clarke isn't quite ready to admit that yet.

"I'm Lexa."

"Clarke. Although I guess you already knew that." Lexa smiles at her a little. Her hands are shoved into the pockets of the apron she's still wearing, and it's stained with food. She's only wearing what looks like an old t-shirt and jeans, and Clarke thinks she's beautiful. Apparently Lexa's lost in an analysis of Clarke as well, because a few seconds pass before she speaks again.

"There's a small amusement park place in town. Mainly for tourists, really. We could go tomorrow, if you wanted to," she says the last sentence as if it's a question, and Clarke gives her a big smile, relieved that the girl, Lexa, didn't cross the street just to reject her.

"That sounds great."

Lexa's small smile grows a bit, and Clarke wonders what she looks like when she isn't so controlled, when she laughs or grins.

"I've got to get back," Lexa says, gesturing over her shoulder at the small shop behind her. Clarke looks over and sees the figure of a large man in the window, and it looks like whoever's ordering is trying, unsuccessfully, to flirt with him.

"I'll call you," Lexa says before she turns to go back to her job.

It isn't anything exciting when you think about it, Clarke muses as she walks back to the house to get ready for dinner, it wasn't an encounter that books would be written or songs would be sung about. But even still, she finds herself looking forward to the next day, butterflies in her stomach.

She gets the call at about ten that night, and it's awkward and filled with ‘um’s and silences that go on just a bit too long. They plan on meeting at four. Lexa's shift ends at three and Clarke's mother will expect them to do something together in the morning.

Clarke falls asleep after trying to draw the way Lexa's hair had been blowing in the wind that afternoon in her journal. She tapes the paper that had been wrapped around her cone on the opposite page.

She knows that she should feel guilty for what she's doing, and she does, but she also can't help herself. She hopes that nobody from home finds out, and she hopes she's not fucking up again, even though she knows that she is.

She misses two calls from Finn while she's sleeping.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been over a month, but here it finally is. this has warped into something much bigger than i thought it would be, and if i'm estimating right i only have about half of it written. i hope to have chapter three up much sooner than i did this one, but i'm not sure that it'll happen. this chapter's a bit longer than the first one, though, so i hope that makes up for how slow i write!

"Clarke, you're going to get sunburnt," her mother chides her for the third time that morning. All they've been doing is walking through the town, stopping at a few clothing outlets. Now they're driving home, and Clarke finds it very unlikely that the rectangle of sunlight that's reflecting from the dashboard onto her arm is going to do her any harm.

Abby doesn't seem to mind that Clarke ignores her. She's more focused on her phone ringing on the cupholder as they stop in the driveway. She takes the keys out of the ignition as she answers it, and is making her way inside when Clarke gets out and calls after her.

"Can I take the car for the afternoon? The girl from the ice cream place is taking me out." Clarke says the last part mainly for attention, but her mother doesn't seem to notice. She nods and tosses the keys over before making her way inside, hands gesturing wildly.

"Well there's nothing I can do, Kane, it's his own fault if- Well, of course but-," is all Clarke hears before she shuts the door and turns the car back on. She rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath, only slightly pissed off that her mother doesn't care that she's going out with a complete stranger.

Clarke wriggles around in her seat, taking her phone out of her pocket. She googles where the amusement park is, because that's where she and Lexa had decided to meet. It's not far, and she's able to remember the directions pretty easily.

She spends the drive there tapping her thumbs on the wheel and adjusting the rearview mirror probably more than is necessary. It's weird, because she doesn't even really know the girl, but she's still nervous.

To be fair, it could be the fact that if anyone from home knew that she was going on a date they would hate her. Well, they would hate her more than they do now. Still, it doesn't feel like that's why she's nervous, even though it should be. Clarke wants it to be.

She takes quarters out of one of the cupholders to pay the meter once she finds a parking space. There doesn't seem to be many people there, but Clarke isn't surprised. She can tell just by looking at it that it's aimed at younger kids, and at four in the afternoon on a Tuesday most of their parents are probably still at work. Clarke remembers that Lexa made it sound like most of the people that go are tourists, anyways, and it's early enough in the summer that most of the motels and rental houses still sit vacant.

They had planned to meet at the ticket booth, but it isn't right by the entrance. Clarke has to walk on a paved path through the park to get to it. On her way she sees a few families riding the smaller rides and a group of thirteen or fourteen year olds on the carousel.

After going around a curve in the path, Clarke's able to see Lexa standing in front of the window of the ticket booth. The woman inside is talking to her, and while Lexa is nodding along she doesn't seem that engaged in the conversation.

“Hey,” Clarke says once she reaches her, pulling out her wallet. Lexa just nods at her and regards Clarke coolly as she pays for a strip of tickets.

“Where should we go first?” Clarke asks, which is apparently the right thing to say, because Lexa finally begins to speak.

“I’m partial to rides that spin,” she says, and it’s so formal and odd that Clarke almost wants to laugh, but she doesn’t. This all feels like some sort of test, and Clarke doesn’t like it. Lexa’s a lot colder than she was the day before. It probably isn’t even worth it. If Lexa’s going to be disagreeable within the first ten minutes of their first date, there’s no real point in spending any time with her. Still, Clarke Griffin has never been one to turn down a challenge, and the way Lexa’s looking at her tells her that this most certainly is one.

“Lead the way,” Clarke says, and Lexa turns, expecting Clarke to follow. She does, and she only catches up to Lexa once they get into the line for the ride. There’s only three people in front of them, two haggard-looking parents with their son who’s grinning up at them like it’s the best day of his life. A middle-aged woman who looks like she would do anything to go home takes their tickets once the ride stops and its previous inhabitants leave, and they’re left with the option of which compartment to sit in.

It doesn’t end up being much of a decision, because Lexa strides forward, picking one with a cracking purple cushion and peeling yellow paint. She sits on the outside, crossing her legs, before Clarke gets in, and Clarke narrows her eyes at her.

She may not have an amusement park in her town like Lexa, but she’s gone on more than enough rides with Octavia at their middle school’s annual carnival-themed fundraiser to know that the person who sits on the inside end of the compartment will be slammed against by the other person every time the machine turns.

Lexa seems to know what she’s thinking, because although her face stays blank, there’s traces of amusement in her eyes and the corners of her lips twitch.

Clarke gets in next to her without argument, and they sit with about a half-foot of space between them before the attendant comes over to make sure that the bar over their laps is locked in.

As the ride starts, they keep their distance from each other. Clarke can hear the boy who was in front of them in line screeching, excited that they’re moving. His mother lets out a tired laugh, and as they go by Clarke can see that his father is watching from the entrance with a smile, even though he’s leaning on the railing for support.

They go faster and faster, making Clarke let out a few screeches herself as Lexa gets closer and closer to falling into her. On one particularly hard turn Lexa finally fully slides into Clarke. Her face is suddenly filled with Lexa’s hair, and while she knows that the other girl would deny it in a second, Clarke can see Lexa smiling as she tries to pull it back. A piece gets stuck in Clarke’s mouth in the most unglamorous way and she pulls it out with a smile.

Every time that Lexa is thrown against her, Clarke catches a particular scent. She can’t quite decide what it is, just that it’s _Lexa_ , and they barely know each other but she really wants to hold her hand as curls blow into her face so she can’t see anything but gold-red-brown-brown-brown.

The ride starts to slow, which is good in the sense that Clarke’s hip won’t get any more bruised from Lexa’s, but she misses the contact and sees the way that Lexa’s face goes back to its carefully schooled expression.

Clarke wishes that once the ride has slowed to where the attractions around them aren’t a blur anymore they’d just stop it. It’s awkward sitting next to Lexa, both on their own sides of the bench again. As they pass by each other she sees that the little boy is leaning against his mother, whose arm around him as she's looking down with a small smile on her face.

The attendant finally comes over and unlocks their fastenings, and Clarke gets off, knees wobbling a little from being on stationary land once again. Lexa gets off a beat after her with no trouble.

“Where to next?” she asks, looking over at Lexa as they pass through the exit. The young boy is being carried out by his father behind them, asleep with his head on his shoulder.

“It’s your turn,” Lexa says, back to the stoic version of herself she’d been before they entered the ride.

“Alright,” Clarke replies with a smile, and sets off down one of the paved paths. Lexa quickly falls into pace next to her, and though Clarke notices that her jaw is clenched, she doesn’t say anything about Clarke not telling her where they’re going.

They wind up in front of the swing carousel, and when Clarke looks over at Lexa again she sees that there’s no expression on her face. She’s not surprised.

“It spins,” she offers, and that’s evidently not what Lexa was expecting because she almost lets out a small smile before she stops herself.

There isn’t a line, and they get into their seats quickly. Clarke sits in front of Lexa, in a faded red plastic seat with the number ‘19’ written on the back in sharpie. Lexa’s is blue with the number twenty.

The boy working the controls is about their age. He has stringy brown hair, and he gives Clarke a mischievous smile as he starts the ride. They don’t start off slowly, and after a minute or so they’re going faster and higher than they probably would if the boy’s manager had been near.

Clarke laughs and spreads out her arms, aware that she looks ridiculous but breathing in the scent of bad fair food and the animals from the petting zoo that’s next door and she can’t find a reason to care.

She turns back to look at Lexa once, when the swings are at their fastest. Lexa doesn’t see her, staring off above Clarke’s head. Her hair is whipping around her face but she doesn’t notice. She looks like she’s thinking intently about something, like she’s in the middle of the most important test of her life rather than on a date at an amusement park. Clarke things she looks stunning, and she turns back around before Lexa stops and notices her.

Clarke thanks the boy on their way out, and he pretends that he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

Her phone starts to ring once they’ve gotten past the exit, and as she pulls it out she notices the time. 5:06. Dinnertime. The second thing that registers is that it’s her mother calling, and she rolls her eyes before silencing her phone and shoving it back into her pocket.

“Sorry,” she says to Lexa, “it was just my mom. She probably just noticed I was gone or something.” Lexa looks confused for a second, but she masks it well.

“If you have to leave for dinner that is alright, Clarke.” Her words are stilted and formal, like they were when they first met up.

“I could,” Clarke says, as if she’s actually considering it, “Or I could buy us a few funnel cakes and we can eat them until we feel sick.” The corners of Lexa’s mouth turn up.

“You’re asking someone who works at an ice-cream stand if she wants to eat sweets for dinner?” she asks, and while Clarke feels a little foolish she holds her gaze.

“Is that a no?” she challenges, and Lexa’s smile gets a bit bigger.

“I’ll pay for our drinks,” she says in response. She takes a few steps towards the food stand, and Clarke starts to follow but Lexa hesitates for a moment. She reaches back and grabs Clarke’s hand, before striding forward as confidently as if she’d meant to do it in the first place. Clarke almost believes it for a moment, but as she catches up she can see for a split second that Lexa looks just as nervous as Clarke feels. She holds onto Lexa’s hand just a little bit tighter.

Clarke ends up ordering three funnel cakes, and Lexa buys them both sodas. The food is soggy and their drinks are flat and a few birds swoop low over their heads, hoping for a bite, but the air is getting cooler and they sit close to each other to keep warm. Clarke almost hopes that’s not the only reason why their shoulders are touching as they rip off pieces of fried dough, but she’s realistic. Even though Lexa has warmed up since the date started, she still obviously isn’t very interested in Clarke.

About halfway through their meal a squirrel runs up onto their picnic table and snatches away the third funnel cake that’s sitting between them. By the time they’re able to react it’s halfway across the lawn, running as fast as it can while it's burdened by its catch. Lexa looks legitimately troubled, but when Clarke starts to laugh she relaxes.

“I hope you weren’t hungry,” she says to Clarke, who only laughs more.

“I’ll buy you a milkshake to make up for it,” Clarke promises, and they go back to eating. Their shoulder bumps seem a bit less accidental now.

Once they’re done eating, they each get half-melted strawberry milkshakes to take with them as they look for what they’re going to do next.

This part of the amusement park is mainly taken up by games, from throwing darts to pop balloons to guessing how many rubber ducks are in a jar. Each game has its own stand, decorated garishly with once-brightly colored but now washed out pictures that are cracking against the old wood they’re painted on. A few of the people standing behind the booths seem to recognize Lexa, but they don’t greet one another, and Lexa seems fine with that.

They make their way closer to the back of the park after awhile, where they see another stand, this one with painted loops on it in red and blue and yellow. The girl working is wearing all black except for her neon pink “Welcome to Adventureland!” t-shirt. There’s peg on a table next to her, and a board behind her says that if you can land just one plastic ring on it you can pick any prize. There’s a bucket of bouncy balls and a few tiaras and plastic necklaces, but on the back wall there’s also a multitude of stuffed animals. In the top left corner a teddy bear is crammed against the ceiling. The stitches around its snout are pulled too tight, making its face look contorted and pained.

“I’m going to get it,” Clarke decides, and Lexa raises her eyebrows at her.

“Clarke, it’s the hardest game here,” she says, and it is. There’s a line for every other game but this one, and there aren’t any prizes missing, unlike the other stands with near-empty back walls riddled with nails that are covered with cheap toys each morning.

“I’m going to get it,” Clarke repeats, looking at Lexa with a steely gaze, and while Lexa’s eyebrows are still raised she doesn’t say any more, even when Clarke hands her her empty milkshake cup to hold while she plays.

Clarke has twenty dollars in her wallet, but the teenager working behind the counter breaks it for her. She looks even younger than Clarke, wearing all black makeup and a bored expression. She trades Clarke three light and flimsy plastic rings for a dollar, and then steps back and begins to play with her earring.

Clarke doesn’t make the first shot. Or the second. Or the third. It’s like playing horseshoes, but it’s harder. The slightest wind blows the ring off of its course, and Clarke’s not even sure that it’s possible for the peg to fit through the ring’s hole.

Her second dollar is wasted just in the way the first was. Lexa still stands behind Clarke, watching her but not offering any help or advice.

Clarke spends three more dollars before she gets anywhere close. Finally, on her eighteenth shot, she grazes over the top of the peg. She smiles fiercely. She knows that she can do it now, and she’s ready. With the first shot of the next dollar she spends she throws the ring just right, angling her wrist and making sure the air is still. It lands, spinning, over the peg, and Clarke grins triumphantly. The girl behind the counter still looks bored, playing with roots that aren’t dyed as black as the rest of her hair, and Clarke can’t figure out what expression is on Lexa’s face. She doesn’t have time to think on it, though, because a light purple bear with a hot air balloon is being thrust into her arms. A hand with black nail polish is holding it by the ear, and when Clarke looks up the game’s attendant is on her phone, holding the bear with two fingers. She must’ve heard them talking before Clarke had started the game, because the bear’s face is scrunched up and the corner of the wall behind her is empty. She doesn’t look up as Clarke takes it, nor when she laces her fingers with Lexa’s and walks away, feeling just a bit like she’s on top of the world.

She doesn’t quite know where she’s going, but Lexa lets her lead. She stops at the base of the ferris wheel. It’s not very tall, and it looks like a particularly strong gust of wind could knock it over. She turns to Lexa.

“Scared of heights?” she asks. Lexa shakes her head, a smile forming on her face that’s softer than Clarke’s ever seen her be. She wants to capture the moment in her mind, save it and lock it up and never let it go, but an old man wearing a uniform clears his throat in front of them and holds his hand out for Clarke’s tickets.

There’s barely enough room for them on the seat. It’s obviously meant for younger children. Clarke sits on the right, her bear in her lap. One of her legs is crammed against the metal siding of the bench, but her other thigh is touching Lexa’s. Clarke thinks that it’s a fair trade off.

They don’t speak until they get to the top, but Lexa takes Clarke’s hand as they start to move. They can’t see over the treeline, but the area is so rural that Clarke can see the stars more clearly than she’s ever been able to before, just starting to peek out into the twilight sky. She closes her eyes. Between the orange-laced periwinkle sky and the warmth of Lexa’s hand in her own, she feels content.

A slight weight lifts from her lap. Clarke opens her eyes to see Lexa, holding the bear in front of her as if she’s inspecting it. She looks like she’s thinking hard about something.

“What are you going to name it?” she asks, and Clarke’s only known her for a day but it seems like such an un-Lexa-like question that she grins.

“I don’t know,” she responds. “Any ideas?”

“Believe it or not, Clarke,” Lexa says very, very seriously, “It’s been awhile since I’ve had to name any teddy bears.” Clarke lets out a small huff of breath.

“I didn’t know you could make jokes,” she says.

Lexa’s face stays blank, but as she hands the bear back to Clarke she tells her, “Name it Teina.”

Clarke wants to ask why, but the ride is stopping at the bottom and Lexa’s still holding Clarke’s hand, leading them away from the ferris wheel.

The rides start to close one by one, but they find a bench to sit down on. They watch the lights around them flicker off and Clarke’s eyes start to feel heavy. There’s a bit of powdered sugar left over from the funnel cake on Lexa’s cheek, and she reaches over to brush it away. Lexa smiles at her.

It’s past eight o’clock by now, and the old man from the ferris wheel approaches them. He looks wary, but all he says is, “Closing time.”

Lexa stands up and Clarke follows her through the cracked paved paths out to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” she asks, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. At this point the amusement park is practically deserted, and Clarke’s is one of the few cars left in the lot.

“I walked,” Lexa tells her, as Clarke pulls her sweatshirt tighter against herself. She yawns again, not bothering to cover it this time.

“I’ll drive you home,” Clarke offers, and Lexa goes to protest but Clarke sees her shiver and crosses her arms. Clarke doesn’t peg Lexa as one to give up a fight easily, but she doesn’t say anything until Clarke’s unlocked the car and they’re sitting in the front seats.

“I don’t live far from here,” she says, “just up the shoreline.” Clarke nods, and puts the car into reverse. She turns the radio on, generic pop music playing softly, and they drive in near-silence. Lexa speaks up to give directions every now and then.

By the time Lexa directs Clarke to park at the curb in front of her house, not five minutes later, Clarke can barely keep her eyes open. She yawns again, for what’s possibly the millionth time that car ride, and Lexa smirks at her. Clarke scowls, but only halfheartedly. Lexa’s hair is illuminated by the streetlights and moon behind her, and Clarke can see the flyaways that the humidity has caused forming a halo around her head. She thinks that it would be very hard to hold a bad feeling towards Lexa for very long, even for her, as unforgiving as she is.

"It's the ocean. Everyone's tired their first few days here,” Lexa says after the silence has gone on for just a few pauses too long.

"Tired doesn't even begin to describe it," Clarke says with a huff of a laugh.

"I don't know if you should drive home like that, Clarke," Lexa's brows furrow in concern.

"It'll be fine. It's not that far."

"If you wanted, you could just stay," Lexa says and Clarke's eyes, which had been drooping just seconds before, snap open. She opens her mouth to protest when Lexa realizes what she had implied and her face flushes.

"No, I mean I have an extra bed in my room. Not like that."

"Oh," Clarke says, and she considers the offer. "Won't your parents be pissed, though?"

"It's just my sister and me, and she won't care."

Clarke's about to say yes, when she remembers the issue of her own parent.

"I could text my mom, I guess. I mean, she won't be thrilled but I won't have to deal with that until the morning." Lexa smiles and Clarke takes the keys out of the car.

Lexa leads her in the front door, through the living room, and down a narrow hallway. Her room is at the end of it.

"The bathroom is next door. I'm just going to change and then you can have it," she tells her as she directs Clarke into her room. It's painted a greyish-blue, and it's walls are bare. There's a bunk bed against one wall and a dresser in the corner. The only window juts out of the wall, and a mirror faces it from the opposite wall, hanging beside the door. Clarke sits on the bed as Lexa gets dressed.

She can't keep her eyes open, and by the time Lexa comes back she's dozing, still sitting on the edge of the bed. Lexa laughs a little, softly, and it wakes Clarke up.

"Shit, sorry," she mumbles, and Lexa lets out that quiet laugh again.

"I sleep on the top bunk anyways, just go to sleep." Clarke wants to say something, and distantly feels bad for ending their date because she couldn't stay awake, but she somehow finds herself lying down and staring at the bare wall and then she's asleep, for good this time.


	3. Chapter 3

When Clarke wakes up she can tell that it's late, but it's still dark. She opens her eyes to see the reason why, the ceiling hanging only a few feet above her, and her body stiffens. She has absolutely know idea where she is. The events of the last night come back to her, and she slowly relaxes. She checks her phone for the time.

It's past eleven in the morning, and she has three missed calls from her mother.

And she's still in her date's house.

And she feels like shit and she probably looks worse.

 _“Shit,”_ she mutters to herself, sitting up.

She debates going out into the living room where she hears voices, but since she values her life she calls her mother instead.

"Clarke?" her mother's voice comes through, sharp and brittle.

"Yeah, Mom," she sighs, and she's about to say more but she's cut off.

"Where the hell are you? I get some cryptic text at eleven at night and then you don't come home? You seem to have forgotten that I _am_ your mother, Clarke, and—" Clarke cuts her short, which poses the risk of her getting angrier, but the last thing that she wants is to sit through a complete lecture. Lexa appears in the doorway and Clarke smiles apologetically, gesturing to the phone held to her ear.

"It's fine, Mom. I was just too tired to call home so I stayed over with the girl I was with."

"The girl you were with? What girl?" Abby's still angry, and is sounding more incredulous with each word that she says.

"I told you. Yesterday. When you were taking that call from work." Clarke lets herself sound as bitter as she feels, because it's honestly the story of her fucking life. "Where did you think I was all afternoon yesterday?"

"We're on vacation, Clarke." Abby suddenly sounds exhausted. "Let's just forget about this. Why don't we just meet somewhere for lunch. You can bring the girl you were with. To thank her for letting you stay over."

Clarke wants to push the issue of her mother ignoring her further, but, like her mother, she's exhausted of it. Abby's obviously trying to distract her or to smooth over the issue, and while it's complete bullshit, Clarke doesn't have it in her to fight about it.

"Alright. Just text me where we're going and I'll meet you there in like a half-hour."

"I'll see you then." A pause, and her mother is probably going to say something more but Clarke hangs up before she can find out. She can say it was an accident later. Besides, Lexa is still standing over her, waiting for her to finish the call.

"How are you?" Lexa asks, moving to sit down next to Clarke, about a foot of space between them.

"I was better before I called my mom," Clarke answers with a laugh, rubbing her hand over her face. She catches a piece of her hair between her fingers and smooths it down. She probably looks terrible, but Lexa isn't looking at her any differently than she had the night before.

There's a silence, as if Lexa doesn't know what to say, until she finally breaks the silence with, "You can borrow one of my shirts, if you want."

Clarke looks down at her own, still stained on the stomach with powdered sugar, and she grimaces.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

Lexa stands up and crosses the room, opening one of her drawers.

"I don't think any of my pants would fit you, but it's better than nothing."

Clarke doesn't hear her. The light is coming in and making Lexa's hair look golden-brown-red and she wants to commit it to memory, whether she paints it later or not. It's worthy of being painted, more than anything else in the entire world, but she doesn't think that she'd do it justice.

Lexa hands her a grey shirt and Clarke heads into the bathroom. There's a toothbrush still in its packaging on the counter next to the sink, and Clarke smiles a little at it. It's a stupid thing to get sentimental about, but it's sweet.

She splashes water on her face and brushes her teeth before changing into Lexa's shirt (which she loves because it makes her tits look _fantastic_ , but more importantly because it smells the same way that Lexa did when she had fallen over her on the scrambler the day before), and when she goes back to Lexa's bedroom it's empty. She hears voices from down the hallway again, though, so she grabs her phone and follows the sounds.

She pauses at the end of the hallway, looking into the livingroom where Lexa’s sitting with a woman who Clarke assumes is her sister. The older woman is smirking at Lexa, who's rolling her eyes, and they don't notice Clarke right away.

Lexa notices her first, and gets up to stand by her. As she moves her sister looks up as well, and Clarke feels like they're having a silent argument while she stands awkwardly, Lexa hovering beside her. They seem to come to an agreement or at least have decided to continue later, because Lexa's sister finally looks up and smiles at Clarke.

"I'm Anya," she introduces herself, and Clarke states her own name in response. Anya and Clarke are looking at each other, and Lexa's staring intensely at her sister as well, and it's more tense and awkward than Clarke would have ever imagined even in the worst-case-scenario of meeting her not-girlfriend's family.

"I'll walk you out to your car," Lexa breaks the silence, and while Clarke appreciates the escape more than she can say, Anya looks at Lexa disapprovingly. Lexa ignores her, though, and leads Clarke out of the front door to where her car is parked on the street.

"Anya wanted you to stay for breakfast," Lexa says apologetically, "I figured you wouldn't want to stick around too long."

"She's intense," Clarke answers. She assumes that's what Lexa meant when she said that Clarke wouldn't want to stay, but the other girl looks surprised for a moment.

"She's... protective," Lexa replies, after searching for the right word.

"My mom wants me to bring you along for lunch, though." Clarke says, trying to sound as casual as possible, before rushing to add, "You don't have to or anything, I mean."

Lexa gives her a small smile.

"Sounds good."

"Great," Clarke grins back at her, before checking her phone for her mother's text.

"Do you know where this place is? It’s supposed to be by the house we’re staying in but I’m not really sure otherwise." Clarke finally asks, after giving up on pronouncing the name of the restaurant. It sounds fancy and pretentious, and not at all like the sort of place she'd want to take someone ever, especially not the day after their first date. Lexa's eyes widen slightly as she reads the name, just enough for Clarke to notice.

"Yeah. It's not far,” she says after a moment, “I just need to tell Anya."

Clarke nods, pretending that she didn't notice Lexa's reaction, and Lexa goes back into her house. Sooner or later she was going to have to tell her about her mother's tendency to throw money at their less-than-ideal relationship in an attempt to fix it, but normally she saved that talk for at least the third date. Then again, she didn't normally sleep over at her date's house just a few days after they'd met.

Clarke knows that she and Lexa are moving fast, whether it's because they know that Clarke will only be there for a few more days or because their relationship is casual. Or, the option that Clarke is trying to stop herself from hoping for, because they both want their relationship to become serious. She knows that it's probably not healthy and there's no possible way that it will end well, but she doesn't let herself care.

Just after Clarke's father died, when she was about ten, her mother had sent her to a few psychologists. It made sense, and because Abby was good at her job even then she had made more than a few connections. Clarke spoke with only the best therapists, and every session with one would end with her refusing to ever go back and them looking on helplessly as a stubborn ten year old girl made them look bad in front of one of their coworkers who was quite a bit higher up the ladder than they were.

It wasn't that she had any real aversion to therapy, although her opinion of it has definitely changed for the worse since then. It was just that she had always been able to tell anything to her father, and he helped her with all of her problems. She was pretty comfortable with her emotions, and her father had helped her to become good at analyzing others' as well. At every session her therapist of the day would tell her something she already knew, and Clarke would roll her eyes and tell them more. They'd always congratulate her as if it were some big thing. At ten she was very obviously a child, but they still found a way to make her feel like she was about half her age and had performed an especially good trick for them. She had hated it.

She’s used to being able to read people, but almost every action that Lexa takes surprises her.

The front door slams as Lexa leaves her house, and it makes Clarke start. She gets up from where she was leaning on the car and makes her way around to the driver's side.

It's hot inside of the car, but they roll the windows down as they drive. Lexa's hair is blown into her face but she doesn't seem to pay any attention to it. She tucks it behind her ear and gives directions from the passenger seat.

Clarke thinks that she’s gorgeous and beautiful and breathtaking, but those are all words a bit too strong to describe someone you've only known for a day, so she doesn't say anything.

They arrive at the restaurant within a few minutes, not talking except for directions. Just from the exterior Clarke can tell that it's expensive and probably a bit snobby and will definitely embarrass her.

"Listen," she says, stopping Lexa as she goes to get out of the car. "My mom might be… not great.” Lexa’s jaw clenches.

“Homophobic?” Clarke doesn’t know if Lexa’s suggesting or asking, but she shrugs either way.

“Not really. She knows that I’m bi but she thinks it would be better for me to only date guys or something.”

Lexa’s still tense as she turns to face Clarke more fully.

“Do you want me to pretend yesterday wasn’t a date?”

Clarke snorts. “God, no,” before thinking for a moment and adding, “Not unless you want to, of course. She’s not that bad and I got used to it a long time ago, but if it’ll bother you I don’t want to force you to do it.”

Lexa relaxes and gives Clarke a half-smile. “I’ve had worse. It’ll be fine.”

“Y’know, if you’re lucky,” Clarke says over the hood of the car as they’re getting out, “She might even make a comment about how I spent the night with you.”

Lexa laughs as she shuts the door, and when they meet up at the back of the car she takes Clarke hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Clarke only notices it after a moment, as if it were normal to her to. It’s kind of scary, but they’re entering the restaurant and she sees her mother sitting at a table in the corner and she has to stand up a bit straighter and prepare for an awkward hour of smalltalk and thinly-veiled jabs about how much easier everything would be if Clarke would just date a boy. Lexa looks over at her change in posture and raises her eyebrows. Clarke glowers at her, daring her to say something about it, and earns a small smile in response.

“Clarke,” her mother greets, standing up from where she was looking at the menu in her seat. She reaches over to give Clarke a hug, forcing her and Lexa’s hands to disentangle. Clarke leans into her mother limply, not quite reciprocating, and Lexa stands behind them awkwardly until Abby lets go. She sits back down Clarke sits across from her. Lexa follows and sits to the right of Clarke.

“Thank you so much for letting Clarke stay over last night,” Abby says, focusing her attentions on Lexa with a smile plastered onto her face.

“It’s no problem,” Lexa assures her, not quite looking her in the eyes as she opens her menu. The table is set with cloth placemats and shiny silverware. It looks like someplace you would go to for a business dinner, not a family brunch.

“What did you guys do yesterday?” Clarke’s mother probes, or maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she just asks innocently and Clarke’s reading too much into it. Or maybe when Clarke admonishes herself for suspecting her mother of the worst it’s just because she’s hoping for the best. She’s not sure, but either way she’s taking too long to answer such a simple question.

“We just went to an amusement park a few minutes away,”  Clarke finally tells her, taking a sip of the water that had been put at her place setting. It looks as if her mother is getting ready to ask more questions, but a waitress walks up to their table. Clarke hasn’t even looked at her menu yet.

The woman greets them before reaching into her apron and pulling out a notepad. Abby orders first, and then Lexa. She only gets a coffee, and Clarke sees why when she takes a quick glance at their breakfast options. It’s ridiculously expensive. Clarke orders one of the larger meals that she sees, not really seeing what’s included with it but noticing that there’s so much that it doesn’t all fit on a single plate. Her mother looks over at her questioningly, but Clarke’s too busy smiling at the waitress and handing back the menu.

She’s not disappointed when the waitress brings out their food. There’s eggs made at least three ways, enough toast to feed an entire family, and an amount bacon that was probably responsible for the deaths of about five pigs. It’s a bit excessive, in all honesty, but she didn’t get the meal just for herself. She puts the second plate in front of Lexa. She gets a glare in return, but after a moment Lexa starts to eat. Clarke knocks their shoulders together, hiding her smirk with a bite of toast.

“How did you two meet?” Abby asks, spearing some lettuce from the salad she’d ordered with her fork. “Bellamy was the one who told me about this town, do you know him?” She addresses her second question at Lexa, who shakes her head in response. Clarke’s still confused that Bellamy even spoke to her mother, let alone gave her travel advice.

“No, Mom, she was the cashier when we got dessert on Sunday, remember?” she finally says, only partially because she wants to drag the conversation away from mention of the Blakes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I never pay attention to that stuff.”

They only sit in silence for a moment before Abby speaks again.

“That’s not your shirt, is it, Clarke?” Clarke turns from the window where she’d been looking at the ocean. She shakes her head, her mouth full of lukewarm bacon.

“Lexa let me borrow hers.”

“That’s nice! I’m glad that you’ve been able to become friends so quickly.” Clarke can’t help herself, she starts to laugh, but she turns it into a cough.

“Wrong pipe,” she explains. Lexa kicks her under the table, and she has to take a bite of her sandwich to stop herself from laughing all over again. Her mother narrows her eyes at them, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Thank your parents for me,” she tells Lexa instead, “I really appreciate them taking Clarke in for the night.”

“My sister was fine with it,” Lexa informs her, and even though it’s unspoken it’s clear that questions about her home situation are unwelcome. She speaks with an authority that more than matches Clarke’s mother’s, and Clarke feels a surge of affection for her. She reaches over to hold her hand in between their chairs. Her mother notices and raises her eyebrows.

“Oh,” she says, and Clarke grits her teeth together.

“What?” she asks, a bit more sharply than was necessarily warranted.

“Nothing,” is the response that Clarke gets, sounding as innocent as can be, “I just thought that I saw the waitress over there. I must have been mistaken.”

They finish the rest of their meal in near silence. Abby tries to make smalltalk here and there, but Clarke and Lexa are mostly focused on finishing their meal as quickly as they can.

Once all of their food is gone, but before the waitress has come to give them their bill, Abby looks at Clarke expectantly. It’s apparent that she wants the next few minutes to be filled with conversation. Clarke quickly throws a desperate look Lexa’s way, begging for a way out.

“The lighthouse isn’t a far walk from here,” Lexa offers, and Clarke is more grateful for her presence now than she’s ever been.

“You don’t care if I meet up with you later, do you?” Clarke, asks, already standing up from her seat, still holding onto Lexa’s hand so that she stands with her. Abby’s face shows that she obviously cares, but she forces a tight smile.

“Of course not, we’ll go shopping later,” she says, “I just want you to enjoy our vacation.”

The second comment is obviously meant to make Clarke feel bad, but Clarke smiles at her anyways.

“See you later,” she says over her shoulder, walking step in step with Lexa as they head towards the front doors. The waitress still hasn’t come for the check, and Abby is stuck watching them leave.

“You talk to each other like you’re diplomats,” Lexa tells her, holding the door open. Clarke laughs.

“Yeah, that’s the type of relationship everyone wants to have with their mother.” Lexa smiles a little.

“You’re good at it, though,” she adds, and Clarke laughs again.

“It’s a nice consolation prize.”

“Are we really going to the lighthouse?” Clarke asks a moment later, once they’re a few yards away from the restaurant.

“Would you like to go somewhere else?”

“No,” Clarke replies simply, and they continue on their way up the sidewalk.

The lighthouse is barely a mile away. They walk for about a half hour before they find a bench to sit down on next to the parking lot. Their walk had been mostly uneventful, the most memorable moment being when Lexa had made fun of Clarke for losing her breath walking up a hill and Clarke had flipped her off with a laugh.

Lexa shivers next to her, and Clarke shrugs off her sweatshirt. Lexa rolls her eyes at her.

“I don’t need your jacket, Clarke.”

“Lexa, you’re wearing a tank top. Put the damn sweatshirt on.” Lexa clenches her jaw and glares at Clarke for a moment before accepting the offer and pulling it on. She’s still sitting, so it should be an awkward motion, but it’s _not_ when she does it, she somehow makes it graceful and breathtaking and it’s silly and small and stupid but Clarke thinks it’s amazing.

Lexa pulls her hair away from her face, and it doesn’t make sense but it feels like Clarke can’t take it any more, whatever _it_ is. She leans in, and Lexa doesn’t move back.

“Sorry,” Clarke whispers, a millisecond before their lips brush together. Lexa pulls away just for a second, enough to take a breath and to rest their foreheads together.

“Don’t be,” she says, just as softly, before leaning in again. Their noses bump together and Lexa’s lips are chapped and it’s so, so far from perfect but it feels right and good and like home. Just as Clarke starts to smile into the kiss her phone begins to vibrate in her back pocket. She sighs as she moves away, back towards her side of the bench, taking her phone out.

“It’s my mother,” she says apologetically in explanation. Lexa lets out a huff of a laugh, moving to pull her hair away from her face and straighten her sweatshirt.

“Clarke,” is the first word that she hears, loudly enough that she has to pull the phone away from her ear slightly. It gives her flashbacks to their phone call in the morning. It’s obvious that her mother’s pissed, even if Clarke doesn’t know why.

“What’s up?” she replies, probably sounding put-out but not able to take her attention from how breathtaking Lexa looks, her profile framed by the ocean next to her.

“Where are you? We were supposed to meet at home a half hour ago to go shopping.” Clarke sighs. She’d completely forgotten.

“Can I take a raincheck or something? I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“Are you with Lexa?” her mother asks, in what almost sounds like an accusatory tone.

“Does it matter?”

“I didn’t think that it would be that outrageous for me to want to know what my daughter is doing when we’re supposed to be on a family vacation together.” Clarke sighs.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m with Lexa.”

“Well, you know that you need a dress for the hospital’s banquet that we’re going to after we get back home, so you’re just going to have to say goodbye to her.”

Clarke wants to argue about going to another one of her mother’s dinners, but she knows that it’s pointless. Instead she says, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Lexa’s a girl, would it?”

“Clarke,” her mother admonishes her sharply, “Of course not, don’t do this right now. We’re on vacation, for God’s sake.”

“Pick me up at the lighthouse,” Clarke tells her, feeling more weary than she probably should at four o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. She hangs up the phone, not caring whether her mother is done with the conversation or not. Next to her, Lexa’s squirming around. She’s taking the sweatshirt off.

“Here,” she offers, and Clarke takes it.

“You have to go?” she asks, although it’s clear that she already knows the answer. Goosebumps are already appearing on her arms. Clarke sits a little closer to her, trying to warm her up without making it obvious.

“Yeah. I’d try to argue it, but I’ve kind of been on a losing streak lately in that regard.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Lexa tells her, staring out into the ocean, “You won me over.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I don’t go on dates with tourists,” Lexa finally turns to look at Clarke. “They leave.”

“Is that why you were such a bitch when we first met up last night?”

“You certainly have a way with words, Clarke.”

“Why’d you call me in the first place if you don’t date tourists?” Clarke asks, ignoring the response.

Lexa shrugs. There’s a small smile on her face, as if she’s in on a secret that Clarke doesn’t know. It’s frustrating as hell, and how good Lexa looks with her arms pulled around herself and her hair blowing behind her only makes it worse.

“It was something to do.”

“Do you regret it?” Clarke asks. It comes out a bit quieter than she intends it to. She doesn’t stop looking at Lexa, but the other girl looks down at their feet.

“No,” she replies, and Clarke wants to say something more, but a car horn sounds from the parking lot a few feet behind the bench and startles the both of them. Clarke turns around to see her mother in the driver’s seat, looking down at her phone. Perpetually busy, as usual. Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Go,” Lexa tells her, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Clarke smiles at her in thanks, picking her phone up from where it sits next to her on the bench. She leans over and kisses Lexa’s cheek before walking away.

When she gets into the passenger seat she sees Lexa sitting right where she’d left her, a hand touching her face where Clarke’s lips just had. Her mother doesn’t notice, but she smiles at herself before they drive away. As her mother puts the car into drive she sits back, resigning herself for the afternoon that’s about to come. She won’t even have Raven to text about how awful it is. It still feels terrible, but not quite as bad as it had the day before. It’s a lot harder to feel lonely when she can see Lexa’s silhouette in the rearview mirror, facing out to the sea.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh i hope you liked it!! i'm sorry it took me forever to get this chapter up. the next one is mostly written, so it should be posted sometime before the new year. i'm not sure after that, though, because the last four chapters aren't much more than notes and outlines at this point. also, in case anyone was wondering, lexa is my absolute favorite character to write in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promised a chapter before the new year, and here it is! it's a shorter one than usual, but it's probably my favorite part of this fic. i hope you like it!!

It's one forty-four in the morning. Clarke idly thinks that it's the perfect time. There are still a few hours before the sun will rise but everyone's already asleep and Clarke's left alone.

Since her mother had gone to bed a few hours ago Clarke has made herself a cup of tea and painted her nails. She had considered texting Bellamy at one point, but she knows that it's not fair to put him in between her and Octavia. That, and because she's a little scared that he hates her too. She wouldn't blame him.

Now she's on the porch, one of the sliding doors open and letting in the sound of the waves crashing on the beach. It's low tide, but the waves are getting higher and higher. Nobody's on the stretch of sand. Even if they weren't asleep, the cold would deter anyone from going out. It's still only June, and the water brings a chill with it.

Clarke can't bring herself to care about the temperature as she grabs her sweatshirt off of the back of one of the chairs in the living room and shuts the front door behind her quietly. She felt caged in in the house. She needs to clear her head.

As she's walking down the hill to the beach she catches a whiff of something. She pulls the collar of her sweatshirt up further and smells Lexa, saltwater and sugar cones and coffee, somehow. She smiles as she remembers what happened at the lighthouse, and she feels her cheeks start to heat up. She shakes her head at herself as she nears the beach.

She doesn't regret what she did with Lexa, not at all. It's just that she  _ really _ likes her, and she's leaving in four—technically three—days. She lives six hours away, so it's not like she can just pop up to visit on the weekends.

The fact that she's fucked up so badly that she can't tell any of her friends about Lexa also poses a problem, and as Clarke finally gets to the beach she worries the cuffs of her sweatshirt in her fingers.

She feels lonely, which is weird. She can see the house her mother's in, sitting above the ocean less than a half-mile away, reminding her that there’s someone else on this trip with her. Still, she hasn't gone this long without talking to Raven or Octavia in years. She knows it's her fault and that she brought it upon herself, but that doesn't make her feel any better.

She sits down in the sand and immediately feels the damp. She's only wearing denim shorts and the whole beach is wet and cold. She shivers and rests her arms on top of her knees, creating a pocket of warmth.

After a few minutes spent watching the waves come in and flow back out into the ocean she pulls her phone out.

(JUN 22, 2:17) hey, sorry to bother you. are you still awake?

Clarke gets a response less than a minute later.

(JUN 22, 2:17) Yeah, I'm here. What's wrong?

She doesn't know how to answer. Nothing is wrong, really, nothing that she doesn't deserve, but melancholy has been sitting heavy in her chest since the summer had started and she's finding it harder and harder to ignore.

(JUN 22, 2:18) just can't sleep. i decided to take a walk but it hasn't made it much better.

It might be oversharing, but it's a lot better than the full truth.

Clarke is scared that she'll scare Lexa off, but a part of her feels like that might be a good thing. It would certainly make things simpler, but Clarke doesn't know if she could stand losing her too. They've only really known each other for a day or two, but everything feels easy with Lexa. Even when she doesn't know what to say or how to say it or what she's supposed to do, Lexa doesn't seem to notice, and if she does she doesn't seem to care.

Her phone vibrates in her hand two more times before she checks the screen.

(JUN 22, 2:18) Clarke

(JUN 22, 2:18) Are you outside walking around at two in the morning?

Shit.

(JUN 22, 2:20) it's no big deal, honestly

And then, after a moment:

(JUN 22, 2:21) besides, im not actually walking around anymore

A minute or two passes before she gets a response back.

(JUN 22, 2:23) Where are you?

 

(JUN 22, 2:24) i'm just on the beach, its really okay.

(JUN 22, 2:24) i like the sound of the water

Lexa doesn't respond after that. Clarke thinks that she's given up on her or gone to sleep, and she can't blame her. She still feels a little sad at the end of the conversation, though.

Clarke has her head resting on her arms and is looking up at the skyline, wishing that the lighthouse still had a real light in it, when she realizes that someone else is on the beach with her. She tenses, but doesn't move. She doesn't want to give away that she knows that anything has changed. If she needs to she can surprise the person.

She ignores the footsteps as they approach her, hoping that the person will continue by and leave her be, but they don't. She turns around, not quite knowing what she'll do but ready to fight, when she feels someone sit down next to her.

But it's just Lexa, looking as calm as ever and holding a blanket in her lap.

"Hello, Clarke," she says neutrally, and Clarke immediately feels terrible.

"You didn't need to to do this," she says instead of a greeting, and she can see Lexa’s face fall a bit before she carefully schools it back into being expressionless.

"I can leave," she offers, "I just thought that you might want some company."

Clarke smiles, and leans her head back down onto one of her arms, turned so that she's looking up at Lexa. She reaches out and takes her hand and she can see that Lexa relaxes a bit. Clarke knows that she wouldn't have noticed that had she not been familiar her, and it makes her feel a bit better for liking her so much. They may not have known each other for long, but Clarke  _ knows _ Lexa, and that’s got to count for something.

Lexa uses her free hand to spread the blanket over their laps, and they sit there for a few minutes before Clarke breaks the silence. It's comfortable, but Clarke doesn't want Lexa to feel like she had brought her out for nothing.

"I'm sorry about this—" she starts, but she's cut off when Lexa huffs out a laugh. She's staring out over the ocean.

"I used to come here a lot when I first moved in with Anya," she says. "Everything was so much better than it ever had been before, and it just felt like it couldn't last." There's a pause then, and Clarke doesn't know how to fill it. Lexa turns to look at her before she speaks next.

"The reason I didn't want to go out with you wasn't just because you're only here for a week," she says after a moment. Clarke's eyebrows furrow and she opens her mouth to ask Lexa what she means but before she can get the words out Lexa starts to talk again.

"It's easier," she says, "not getting attached. It's smarter."

Clarke's just as confused now as she was before, and she's almost a little worried that Lexa drove out just to break up with her. Of course, they haven’t really defined if there’s anything to break up, and that almost makes Clarke feel worse as it becomes apparent that it’s her job to continue the conversation.

"What changed?" she asks.

"I don't know. You were going on a date with a stranger instead of doing something with your family on your vacation. You didn't answer your mother when she called you. You wanted that bear."

Clarke smiles a little and reaches over to rest her hand on top of Lexa's. Lexa looks at them before she turns hers over and weaves her fingers through Clarke's but she keeps talking.

"My parents weren't good people, Clarke. It's the reason why I live with Anya. She left because if she didn't she would've been expected to get married and she's aromantic. I thought they'd change their minds for me," she says with a bitter smile that's quickly dropped, looking back up at Clarke. "They didn't, obviously. When they found out they made me break up with my first girlfriend. They made me hurt her. After that I left, and they were more worried about what their friends would think than they were about me."

"After my dad died my mom kind of forgot about me," Clarke says quietly, and Lexa just looks at her like she expects more. "I mean, we weren't that close before that, but I barely ever saw her afterwards. This whole trip is just some big gesture for her to buy my forgiveness. It isn't even like it was a good idea. I spend most summers with my friends anyways."

"It seems like a good decision now, though," she says after a moment, looking up into Lexa's face.

"Sappy," Lexa says as she rolls her eyes and looks away, but Clarke can see a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. They sit in silence for another few minutes before Lexa starts to talk again.

"Why are you out here tonight, Clarke?"

"What do you mean?" Clarke asks in response. She thinks she knows what Lexa means, but isn't sure if she wants to explain everything. Lexa shrugs, but Clarke can tell that it’s a calculated move, probably meant to make her feel more comfortable, like she’s in control of the situation.

"If it was because of your mother you probably would've come here on other nights. And as far as I know you haven't."

Clarke sighs and looks down at the sand.

"I fucked up," she says in explanation, and Lexa waits for her to continue. SHe does, but she won't meet Lexa's eyes.

"I was at a party a few weeks before the end of the school year and before I left my mom and I got into a huge fight. I was really pissed off and I drank more than I should have and I wanted to feel like a badass and my best friend's boyfriend came up and started dancing with me. He pulled me to the side of the room and tried to kiss me and when I stopped him he told me that she'd broken up with him. I was really drunk and it felt like a good decision so I let him make out with me, and then he brought me up into the bathroom and we fucked in the bathtub. I woke up with the worst hangover I've ever had, leaning against a stranger’s toilet wearing everything except for my underwear. I felt terrible and I wasn't going to tell anyone about it, but then when I went to school the next day it turned out that they were still together. So he was just a fucking jackass and I had to tell my friends and they haven't spoken to me since."

"My first girlfriend loved flowers," Lexa says once Clarke's finished. The fear that Lexa hates her now that she knows the type of person Clarke is diminishes slightly, but it's replaced with confusion. It must show on Clarke's face because Lexa shrugs.

"I thought that we were at the point where we were talking about our exes," she says.

"He isn't an ex, it didn't mean anything and I can honestly barely remember it," Clarke protests, and Lexa squeezes her hand. Clarke feels a little better after telling Lexa, and they sit for another little while before Clarke leans her head onto Lexa's shoulder. They stay there like that until Clarke's phone starts to vibrate in her back pocket and she has to wiggle around to pull it out. Her mother's calling.

"Clarke, it's three in the morning!" Abby sounds tired but livid, and Clarke doesn't know what to say.

"I know, Mom, I'm sorry, I'll come home—" her placating words are interrupted by her mother.

"Are you out with Lexa again?" she demands, and Clarke sighs before telling her that she is.

"Then she can sleep over here if that’s what it takes, but you need to come home, Clarke. Waking up to you gone in the middle of the night is terrifying." Clarke softens a bit at her words.

"We'll be right there, Mom, I'm sorry."

"Just lock the door behind you," she's reminded before she hangs up. Clarke turns to Lexa.

“Will your sister be mad at you if she wakes up and you’re not at home?” A moment passes before Lexa responds.

“It depends where I am.”

“Well, since my mom rented a house with about fifteen extra bedrooms you’re more than welcome to stay with us. Unless you’d get in trouble, of course.” Lexa stiffens and goes to protest at the fact that Clarke’s just described her getting into trouble like a child, but Clarke ignores her and continues on.

“Or, if it would make your sister feel better, you could just share my bed with me.” Clarke’s pushing it, and she knows that she is, but a smile ghosts onto Lexa’s face just the same.

“I wouldn’t want to disappoint Anya.”

Clarke smiles as she stands up, and then she holds out her hand to pull Lexa up next to her. The blanket falls onto the sand, and Lexa leans over to pick it up before they walk along the beach and then up to where Lexa’s car is parked on the side of the road. Lexa opens Clarke’s door for her, and Clarke rolls her eyes at her chivalry. Lexa throws the sandy blanket in after her in retaliation, and Clarke’s glad that her shriek is hidden by the slam of the door closing. Lexa gets in next to her with a knowing smile, though, that makes Clarke fear that she’d heard.

Clarke gives directions, but for the larger part of the short time it takes to get to the house the car mirrors the hushed atmosphere that fills the rest of the town.

There isn’t enough room in the driveway for a second car, so Lexa parks on the street. Clarke trips over the curb and Lexa laughs at her after it’s apparent that she’s okay, but they both make a point of being quiet as they enter the house. Clarke turns off the light in the living room on their way up to her room. She walks the rest of the way guided by one hand on the wall, the other in Lexa’s, leading her.Once they get to her bedroom Clarke lets go. Across the hallway Abby’s door is shut.

Clarke doesn’t bother turning the light on when she enters her room. The window’s still open, letting in light from the moon and the smell of seaweed and salt. Clarke can see just enough to pull back the covers. She climbs over to the far side of the bed so that Lexa has room to follow. 

They face each other in the near-dark, both lying on their sides, breathing in each other’s breaths. A piece of Lexa’s hair is lying over her forehead. Clarke pushes it away, and Lexa catches her hand before she can pull it back. She unfurls Clarke’s fingers, tracing lines into her palm. Lexa’s focused on what she’s doing and Clarke is focused on her face in the nighttime air and everything feels  _ perfect _ . Clarke is able to forget about everything but her room filled with blue shadows and the sand in her hair that’s making her scalp itch and the girl, the amazing, brilliant,  _ perfect _ girl lying across from her. She leans forward a bit, slowly, finally closing the space to kiss Lexa’s forehead.

When she pulls back she’s blushing, but the room’s dark enough that she doesn’t think that Lexa will be able to tell. When she looks up, meeting Lexa’s gaze, whether or not she sees stops mattering, because the look that she’s getting is filled with such unrestrained adoration that Clarke doesn’t know what to do except smile and sigh and feel a little stupid for being so enamored with this girl she’d met just four days ago. Lexa gives a soft smile before she breaks the trance Clarke’s in, leaning over to pull the blankets up over the both of them.

“Sleep,” Lexa whispers, pushing the waves of her hair out of her face, “It’s late.” She looks breathtaking, and Clarke doesn’t ever want this moment to end.

Clarke finally nods after a few long moments, pulling their hands forward to kiss Lexa’s knuckles before closing her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

When Clarke wakes up, the other side of her bed is empty. She reaches out blindly, blinking her eyes open. The sheets next to her are warm, but she’s the only person in the room. She grabs a sweatshirt from where she’d dropped it on the floor at some point during the past week and steps out into the hallway. The bathroom door is shut, and, hearing that her mother is moving around downstairs, Clarke assumes that it’s occupied by Lexa. With the option to wake herself up with a shower gone, Clarke follows her mother’s voice down to the kitchen to find the next best thing: she pulls a mug off of the top shelf and pours herself a cup from the coffeepot her mother left on the counter.

Abby’s on the phone, sounding exasperated. She hangs up with a sigh, and Clarke raises her eyebrows at her from across the counter.

“I have an emergency meeting,” her mother explains, “It should only take a few hours.”

“You’re six hours away from the hospital,” Clarke reminds her flatly. She sees Lexa appear, descending the stairwell. She comes to stand by Clarke, who offers her the mug in her hands. Lexa almost-smiles, takes a sip, and hands it back.

“It’ll be a video conference. I’ll be done by the end of the day, and I’ll be free for the rest of our vacation.”

“What are you doing today?” Clarke asks Lexa, opting to ignore how “the rest of their vacation” is really only a few more days. Lexa looks carefully between Clarke and her mother before answering.

“I have to work in a few hours, but otherwise I’m free.”

Clarke looks behind her, checking the clock that hangs above the stove. It’s late enough that an early lunch isn’t out of the question.

“Are you hungry?” she asks Lexa, who seems to take the hint.

“The restaurant a few doors down from the ice cream shop sells burgers,” she tells Clarke, who nods in response. They’re both still wearing the clothes they’d worn the day before, and while it would be nice to change, they look presentable. Clarke puts her mug in the sink before taking Lexa’s hand, calling out a goodbye to her mother over her shoulder as they walk out the door.

They go down to the restaurant and get sodas and french fries to share. By the time they get their food and find a table on the grass in front of the building they don’t have much time before Lexa’s shift starts. They eat in a comfortable silence that is occasionally broken from squeals from the beach across the street, where the can see people running into the frigid water before returning to the shore and boasting to their friends.

They have a few minutes to spare before Lexa has to go, so they stay seated.

“I hope I’m not messing up any of your plans,” Clarke says, playing with the wrapper from her straw, “What would your normally be doing right now?” Lexa shrugs.

“Nothing, really. I don’t have many plans.” Clarke looks at her skeptically.

“You don’t do anything besides going to work over the summer?” Lexa shrugs again.

“On nights when Anya and I are both home we watch one of the movies she stole from my parents’ house when she left, but that only happens a few times a month.”

“Really? Only a few times a month?”

“There are only so many times you can watch childrens’ movies before they get old, Clarke.” Clarke laughs, surprised. She didn’t think that that would be what Lexa liked to do in her spare time, watch movies about princes and princesses and their talking pets. Lexa smiles at her.

“They remind Anya of when we were younger.”

“But you watch them too.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but Lexa answers anyways.

“We used to pretend that we were the protagonists. We would tell each other that someday we’d leave and go on an adventure together and save the day.”

Lexa looks wary of Clarke, like she’s said too much, but Clarke answers her seriously.

“Alright. So if you’re the hero, who would I be?”

“You could be the queen,” Lexa tells, her smiling softly.

Clarke raises her eyebrows and smiles. “But queens are always evil. Would that mean I’m the bad guy?"

A bit too much of a serious edge escapes into Clarke's joking tone, and she hopes that Lexa won't notice. She must though, because she gives Clarke a small, comforting smile when she says, "We're all bad guys some days."

Clarke vaguely finds herself thinking that she might have fallen in love with her just then. Which is stupid, because she's only known Lexa for less than a week, but there's something in the way that she hadn't tried to lie to Clarke to make her feel better and the affection in her eyes that makes Clarke lean forward and kiss her. Lexa seems surprised but quickly reciprocates. She tastes like salt and the sweetness of her soda and Clarke could kiss her for days and days without stopping. Of course, when a group of teenage boys start wolf-whistling from where they’re standing across the street they pull apart. Clarke flips them off, but only halfheartedly. She's too busy looking at Lexa, who's staring back at her with so much warmth in her face that Clarke wants to lean in all over again. Lexa's smiling bigger than Clarke has ever seen her before, though, and she doesn't dare interrupt that.

"I could beat them up," Lexa offers after a moment's pause, nodding towards the boys. Clarke lets out a loud burst of laughter, not expecting it.

"No thanks, my girlfriend getting arrested doesn't seem like the end to a good date."

Lexa's smile falters, and Clarke's scared she's overstepped, that she went too fast--they've only known each other for four days and maybe Lexa didn't want to be like _actually dating_. A second later, though, Lexa grabs her hand from where it’s resting on her lap and she smiles again, softer and sweeter than before. She leans in and gives Clarke a peck on the lips before standing up and pulling Clarke with her.

"Come on. I have to go to work."

As they walk further down the street, they’re almost run down by two young girls, one pulling the other enthusiastically over the crosswalk and towards the sea. Clarke laughs and Lexa smiles and they continue on, the smell of waffle cones getting stronger.

They enter the ice cream shop from the back door, Clarke laughing softly at the expression Lexa had made when a seagull had dipped in front of them on the sidewalk. Lexa pulls a stained apron from where it’s hanging on a hook next to the door and they round the corner into the back room. Clarke looks up after bumping shoulders with Lexa, and she stops dead in her tracks.

"Shitshit _shit_."

Lexa looks over at her, eyebrows raised but otherwise showing no sign of alarm.

"What is it?"

“I know him,” she mutters, already starting to back away. Lexa's eyes widen marginally, but otherwise she doesn’t seem fazed.

“Does he know?” She asks, calm and taking charge of the situation.

“He’s dating one of my best friends. I’d be surprised if he didn’t.” Lexa nods, waiting for Clarke’s next move. She's about to turn and leave the way they came in, and Lexa looks like she’s ready to follow, but Lincoln's voice interrupts them.

"You're late, Heda. Could it have anything to do with this mysterious girl Anya was talking about?" He looks like he would continue his teasing, but when he turns from the wall of shelves and sees Clarke he stops. His eyes widen as Lexa's had moments before, and he doesn't seem to know what to do. Clarke realizes that she must look like a deer in headlights and pulls herself together, forming a forced smile.

"Hey, Lincoln.” She doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic, but she stands as tall as she can anyways..

"Clarke," he says, sounding suddenly guarded. "What are you doing here?"

Lexa is standing off to the side, but she doesn’t show any reaction to the way things have turned out. Her expression is blank as she looks to Clarke, waiting for what she'll say next. Clarke takes a deep breath and forms a tight smile.

"I think you already know, don't you?" Lincoln regards her silently for a second before replying.

"Octavia's going to be pissed." The smile Clarke had been forcing falls from her face.

"I know."

Lincoln nods at her, apparently accepting her answer, before he turns to Lexa.

"I'm going on my break."

"Be back before lunchtime," she tells him, and he takes of his apron and brushes past Clarke to get out of the building.

Clarke allows herself a moment to stand where she is, eyes closed, and to pretend that she hasn't fucked anything up. She isn't convinced, though, and Lexa's giving her a level stare when she opens her eyes.

"Are you going to tell her before he can?"

"Nope," Clarke says, hearing either bitterness or emptiness in her own voice, she can’t tell. "Bad guy, remember?"

Lexa must be able to tell that she's trying to lighten the mood, but all she does is shake her head before grabbing Clarke by the wrist and leading her to help finish stacking the boxes that Lincoln had abandoned.

They're heavy, but Clarke enjoys the distraction. Lexa leaves her to the task after a few minutes, going to work one of the registers.

When Clarke finishes filling up the shelves she finds a stool on the corner to sit on while she waits for Lexa. She could leave, she's in walking distance from home, but she's not in the mood to deal with her mother. She pulls out her phone to see she's missed three texts, all from Jasper.

(JUN 22, 16:16) we're going down to the lake, u in?

(JUN 22, 16:16) i mean ik u and o arent talking

(JUN 22, 16:17) but i dont think shes going anyway

Clarke barely pays attention to the messages, only dwelling on them long enough to figure out that Lincoln hasn't told Octavia yet. She knows that if he had, everybody else would know what Clarke had done by now. If Octavia found out that she'd gone on a date with Lexa after everything that had happened, she wouldn't be half as merciful as she had been. Everyone would know what happened between Clarke and Finn by the end of the day, and Clarke can’t say that she doesn’t deserve it.

Lexa comes into the back when there’s a lull in customers. Clarke’s grateful she’s left her alone for this long, but Lexa’s also a welcome distraction.

“Okay?” she asks, not quite looking at Clarke as she moves to the sink to wash the residue of melted soft serve off of her hands.

“I’ve been better,” Clarke answers, but she smiles anyways at the sight of Lexa. Wisps of hair have worked out of her braid and are framing her face. Clarke wants to lean over and tuck them behind her ears, but she restrains herself.

“I asked Lincoln to cover the rest of my shift once he gets back.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Clarke tells her, her face blank. It’s so sweet and nice and it makes Clarke’s heart soar, but it also serves to make her feel even more guilty. Lexa shrugs.

“He normally gets better tips anyways, and we pool them at the end of the day.” Lexa turns the faucet off and dries her hands on her apron, getting them slightly sticky again. She leans against the lip of the sink, facing Clarke, and waits for her to speak.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Anya’s working today. You can come back to my place, if you want.” Clarke can hear the rumble of a motorcycle pulling into the lot behind the shop, presumably Lincoln’s.

“I’ll try to be better company,” Clarke says, mustering up a smile as she stands. Lexa purses her lips a little, but she doesn’t say anything.

They pass Lincoln on their way out, when Lexa’s taking off her apron. He regards Clarke levelly for a few seconds before saying, “She misses you,” on his way past. Clarke closes her eyes and clenches her jaw, taking a breath before she opens them again, following Lexa out.

Once they get to her house they play card games and accuse each other of cheating and watch shitty sitcom marathons until the sun begins to set. Clarke yawns, and Lexa offers her a ride home, which she accepts with a smile.

When they reach Clarke’s driveway Lexa puts the car into park. They sit in silence for a moment, Clarke looking at where their hands are folded together between them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks. Lexa looks to her with a soft smile and such warmth in her eyes that Clarke never wants to leave the moment, wants to stay there for the rest of her life.

“I’m not working. Call whenever you want.”

“That could be dangerous,” Clarke tells, her smirking a little. Lexa smiles a little bit wider.

“I’ll come over,” Lexa tells her, “even if it’s one in the morning and I have to sneak out.”

“You already did,” Clarke reminds her.

“I would do it again,” she says, and it feels so much like a promise, like a vow, that Clarke can’t think of any way to respond other than by leaning in and kissing her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says as she leaves the car. Lexa whispers the words back to her, her smile lit up by the lights that had turned on when Clarke opened the door.

The good mood Lexa brings only lasts until Clarke reaches her door. She feels heavy and awful, and all she wants to is to hide away in her room. She nearly makes it there, calling out a greeting to her mother and walking into the kitchen. She’s nearly at the stairs when her mother’s voice stops her.

“Could I talk to you, Clarke?”

Clarke turns around. Abby’s followed Clarke into the kitchen, and she’s standing by the counter, arms crossed over her chest and mouth drawn in a thin line.

“I’m really tired, Mom, and—”

Her mother interrupts her, “It’ll only take a minute.” Clarke sighs and raises her eyebrows.

“What is it?”

“You’ve been gone all day.”

“Yeah. You were in a meeting.”

“I was,” Abby says evenly, hinting at something that Clarke doesn’t have the energy to almost-but-not-quite-talk about.

“Did it go well?” she asks, knowing that her mother will redirect the conversation to whatever she really wants it to be about.

“It did. And it ended around lunchtime.”

“Mom, I told you I was tired. What are you trying to say?”

“I wanted this vacation to be about _us_ , Clarke. Not about you and your girlfriend. If I’d wanted to spend the week in the house by myself I would have let you invite Raven and Octavia too.” Clarke laughs bitterly.

“Yeah, I don’t think you had to worry too much about that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You really didn’t notice?” Clarke asks, and even to her it sounds defeated, but she forces herself to chuckle again. She’s as exhausted as she had been just minutes ago, but anger thrums through her, just under the surface, giving her a sort of energy that feels bad and powerful.

“Of course, you didn’t even fucking notice. I’m going to bed, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“No, Clarke,” Abby says as forcefully as she can. Clarke doesn’t’ know why she complies. Maybe it has to do with the fact that all of the strength that her mother can muster still leaves her voice sounding brittle and weak, or maybe it’s because she’s too tired to resist. Either way she stays, staring her mother down.

“What’s going on?”

“All of my friends hate me and you haven’t even _noticed.”_

She’s on the verge of tears now, her voice filling up the kitchen, but she keeps going. “Mom, I haven’t spoken to anyone in weeks. _Weeks_ , Mom, and you didn’t even fucking _notice._ ”

“I’ve been busy, Clarke,” Abby says breathlessly, and she opens her mouth as if to continue but Clarke cuts her off.

“You’ve been busy for _years,_ Mom!” Tears are streaming down her face uncontrollably, but Clarke makes no move to stop them.

“You’ve been busy since Dad died! We haven’t had a real conversation since I was twelve and you never even cared.”

“Obviously I care, Clarke, but it’s not that simple—” Clarke cuts her off again.

“God, why can’t you ever just _apologize_ for anything?”

Silence hangs between them for a few seconds, and Clarke is about to turn and go up the stairs behind her, but her mother speaks.

“I _am_ sorry, Clarke. I just didn’t know how to go back to normal with you.”

“That’s not an excuse. You’re my _mom_. It was your job to figure it out.”

“I know, Clarke, I’m sorry.” Abby’s crying now too, and Clarke doesn’t know what to do. Her mother wipes the streaks from her face and takes a deep breath, seemingly composing herself.

“What happened between you and your friends?”

Clarke wants things to get better, she really does, but she isn’t in the mood to talk with her mother anymore, especially not about this.

“I did something bad at a party a few weeks before the end of the year.”

Abby doesn’t push her, just asks, “The party you went to on the night where we fought?” Clarke nods.

“I’m sorry Clarke,” she says again, but Clarke shrugs the word off.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Clarke sighs, saying, “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Clarke’s mother doesn’t follow her as she trudges up the steps, wiping a hand over her face. By the time she makes it to her room she’s decided not to bother with pajamas for the night, settling down onto the bed with a sigh. All she wants to do is to go to sleep, but she knows that there’s something more she has to do before the day can end. She picks her phone up from where it’s laying on the nightstand and unlocks it, going into her favorite numbers to find the person she wants to call.

The phone rings a few times before going to voicemail. Clarke hadn’t really expected anything else, and she’s almost relieved. She takes a deep breath before the tone sounds and she starts to speak.

"Raven? Hey. It's Clarke. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. And I know that I told you that already but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry about Lexa too," Clarke pauses, realizing that she's getting ahead of herself.

"I mean, that's her name," She adds. "And I know it's wrong but I won't not be with her." Clarke's stumbling over her words and she's not quite saying what she means but she's just trying to force the words out of her mouth.

"It's not like we love each other, I mean we haven't even known each other for a full week, but I think we could. I actually really think we could. Listen, I'm sorry for all of the shit I did. I'm sorry and it was a terrible thing for me to do but I can't let go of her to make up for it. I'm sorry Raven, I really _really_ am, but I can't. And I understand that you don't want anything to do with me, and I'm not asking for you to forgive me or anything, I just wanted you to know I'm sorry. And I miss you. I really, really miss you." Clarke can feel herself starting to get worked up and she takes a deep breath so that she doesn't start crying in the middle of the call.

"Yeah, I…” she trails off, “I guess that's it. If you want you can share this with Octavia, I just thought that you deserved an explanation." Clarke closes her eyes, but she can't think of anything else to say. "Bye, Raven," she finally finishes, tapping the screen of her phone to end the call with a sigh.

She gets a text about ten minutes later.

(JUN 23, 0:02) i'm still mad at you

(JUN 23, 0:02) but i miss you too

Clarke doesn't know how to respond, so she just waits to see if Raven will say anything else.

(JUN 23, 0:04) and i kind of fucked up

(JUN 23, 0:04) what do you mean?

(JUN 23, 0:05) i was sad

(JUN 23, 0:05) and really pissed off

(JUN 23, 0:06) and wick and i fucked

(JUN 23, 0:06) wick the dick????

(JUN 23, 0:07) yeah

(JUN 23, 0:07) wick the dick

(JUN 23, 0:07) wick the dick who won't stop saying that he wants a 'serious relationship' and wont leave me tf alone

(JUN 23, 0:07) holy shit!

(JUN 23, 0:08) i know!!!! help!!

Clarke doesn't go to sleep until the sky is turning grey with the first twinges of sunlight. Things still aren’t alright with Raven, but they're talking, which is more than Clarke could say earlier in the day. She doesn’t realize how much she had missed it, had missed her friends, until she's going to sleep, feeling lighter than she has in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy early valentines day!! i wanted to post this tomorrow but i'm too tired lmao. the next two chapters are just notes so idk when they'll be out, but there's really only two installments left (chapter 6 and then chapter 7 + the epilogue) so it'll definitely done by june at the latest, but hopefully by may.
> 
> fun fact: clarke has been wearing the same pair of jeans for three days in a row what a gd mess
> 
> also!! im on tumblr at [wanhdea](http://www.wanhdea.tumblr.com) now


	6. Chapter 6

Clarke is woken up by the sound of her phone vibrating on the nightstand next to her. She rolls over, hoping to go back to sleep, but it vibrates again, and then again.

(JUN 23, 9:02) wick just texted me!!

The next message is a picture sent by Octavia into the groupchat. It’s just a photo of her laughing, with crazy bedhead and no makeup on. Clarke’s chest aches a little seeing it. It’s the first she’s seen anything other than a glare from Octavia in weeks, and it feels good. The fact that they’re using their old groupchat again, the one lovingly titled “Three Musketeers” by Raven, feels even better.

The third message is from Raven again.

(JUN 23, 9:04) fuck off

Clarke wipes the sleep from her eyes and takes a deep breath. The taste of the salt in the air wakes her up and makes her smile softly. Before she dives into what’s sure to be madness with the Wick situation, Clarke shoots off a message to Lexa.

(JUN 23, 9:06) yesterday was really nice. can we have another homey day again?

She gets a response almost immediately.

(JUN 23, 9:06) Yes, please.

It’s only then that Clarke registers what time it is.

(JUN 23, 9:07) why are you awake??? it’s only 9! you have the day off!

(JUN 23, 9:07) I’m always up at seven. Anya and I eat breakfast together on the days that she can spare the time.

(JUN 23, 9:07) i should have expected that. you’re crazy. do you want to come over later? mom’s not up yet, or i’d invite you here now.

(JUN 23, 9:08) I can come at noon, and bring lunch, if you’d like.

(JUN 23, 9:08) that sounds perfect :)

(JUN 23, 9:08) See you then. :)

Clarke slips her bra on underneath her t-shirt and walks downstairs, her bare feet patting softly against the wood floors. She makes herself a bowl of cereal, and then reopens her messages with Raven and Octavia.

(JUN 23, 9:14) he’s totally out of line!!

Raven is quick to respond.

(JUN 23, 9:15) ik!! like wtf!

(JUN 23, 9:16) bell and i can go have a talk with him if u want

Clark huffs out a laugh.

(JUN 23, 9:16) god, i wish i could be there to see his face up against both you and bellamy

(JUN 23, 9:17) i can handle my own problems, thank you very much, ladies

(JUN 23, 9:17) but you’re right, that wld be fucking hilarious. he’d shit himself.

They keep chatting as Clarke finishes eating, and as she moves on to getting changed and sorting out her hair Finally the conversation turns towards her, for better or for worse. Surprisingly, Octavia isn’t the one to bring it up, but Raven instead.

(JUN 23, 10:03) so, clarke. how’s the beach?

(JUN 23, 10:03) not bad. i have gifts for when i get back!!

(JUN 23: 10:04) tell ur mom i’m still pissed that we weren’t allowed to come

(JUN 23, 10:04) speak of the devil, she’s coming down rn. i’ll be sure to pass along the message. talk later?

(JUN 23, 10:05) ofc!

Octavia doesn’t respond, but Clarke tries not to let it bother her.

“Oh,” her mother says once she reaches the doorway to the living room and sees Clarke sitting on one of the couches. “You’re already up.” She looks like she doesn’t know what to say next, and ends up sitting down beside her.

“I’ve been up texting with Raven and Octavia,” she says, extending an olive branch. Her mother perks up at the sound of her voice, and then even more at the news.

“You’re all talking again?”

Clarke nods, and she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. Her mother mirrors her, sipping at the mug of tea in her hands.

“Lexa’s coming over in a few hours,” Clarke says. And then, belatedly, she adds, “If that’s okay?”

Abby ignores the pause and nods.

“Do you want to go or a walk on the beach before she gets her?” she asks instead of rebuking her, and Clarke accepts readily.

They get ready and head out. Clarke thinks that it’s probably just what her mother had envisioned when she’d been planning the vacation. They walk side by side along the shoreline, crowded with families sunbathing and children rushing in and out of the water. They talk a little bit about the previous five years, but mainly focus the conversation on what will happen when they get back home, their plans and hopes and goals.

It’s nearly noon when they get back, and Lexa isn’t too far behind them, bringing lunch along from a local deli as promised. They eat together, and then Lexa and Clarke retreat up to larke’s room, where she closes the door behind them.

“Hey,” she says once she turns around to face Lexa, a smile breaking out helplessly across her face.

“Hey,” Lexa responds, with almost exactly the same expression, and Clarke doesn’t want anything more than to lean in and kiss her, so she does just that.

They move back until Lexa’s knees hit the bed, and then they’re laying side by side, Clarke half on top of Lexa, with their legs hanging over the edge of the mattress. They keep kissing, and Clarke would swear that she’s did and gone to heaven, except for her phone in her back pocket, which vibrates continuously until she has to push up off from Lexa and check it.

(JUN 23, 12:56) clarke

(JUN 23, 12:58) claaarke

(JUN 23, 12:59) claaaaarke

(JUN 23, 12:59) clarke.

(JUN 23, 13:00) CLARKE

(JUN 23, 13:00) oh my gosh, WHAT?

(JUN 23, 13:00) raven’s here with me and we want to meet your girlfriend

(JUN 23, 13:01) right now?

(JUN 23, 13:01) are you with her right now?

(JUN 23, 13:02) yeah

(JUN 23, 13:02) then yeah!!

“What’s going on?” Lexa asks when Clarke lets out a soft groan.

“I’ve been talking to Raven and Octavia again…,” Clarke trails off.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Lexa’s brow is slightly scrunched up, and it’s adorable, so Clarke lets herself lean down and kiss it before she answers. Lexa giggles a little at the tickle of it, and Clarke loses any thoughts she’d had.

“What’s the matter?” Lexa prompts her again.

“They want to meet you.”

Lexa shrugs as best she can while still lying down, Clarke hovering over her.

“That’s okay. It’ll be interesting to meet Lincoln’s girlfriend, anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Clarke asks, and she isn’t sure if it’s more for Lexa’s benefit or for her own. Lexa nods, so Clarke pushes her trepidations to the side and texts Octavia back.

(JUN 23, 13:06) we can video chat if you want? in like 15 min?

(JUN 23, 13:06) sounds perfect! i’ll get lincoln to join us!

Clarke feels cool fingers run over her face, smoothing out the creases in her forehead. She looks down to see Lexa staring up at her with the softest eyes imaginable and she can practically fee her insides melting.

“What’s wrong?” the other girl whispers, but Clarke just shakes her head.

“Octavia’s being really nice. I think she’s still mad at me.”

“You think that’s why she wants to talk?”

Clarke shrugs again. When it’s said out loud like that it sounds paranoid.

“Well, we’ll talk to her together,” Lexa says matter-of-factly, as if that’s that and Clarke doesn’t have anything left to worry about. It feels that way to Clarke, too.

“I look like a mess,” Clarke says with a laugh, very obviously trying to distract herself.

“Sit,” Lexa says. Clarke does as she’s told, legs hanging off of the edge of the bed. Lexa kneels behind her and Clarke feels hands in her hair.

“What are you doing?” Clarke asks. Lexa doesn’t answer, just pulls her fingers across Clarke’s hairline, collecting strands and twisting them back. Clarke relaxes into her touch, closing her eyes.

When Lexa’s finished, Clarke’s hair is woven into a series of intertwined braids, her scalp is still tingling from the contact, and her phone is ringing.

She leans across the bed to answer it, and then sits down next to Lexa. There are two boxes on screen, one with Octavia and Raven’s faces smushed together, and one with Lincoln and the stockroom in the background.

They say their hellos, and make the necessary introductions. Mindless pleasantries are exchanged for a few minutes, but it feels like everybody’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everyone but Lexa knows Octavia, and nobody’s fooled by her innocent facade for a second. Finally what they’re all waiting for come, in the form of a question directed at Lexa.

“Is Clarke causing as much trouble up there as she does here at home?”

Lexa tilts her head to the side, her face blank. Clarke thinks that she almost looks dangerous. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, Clarke causes the most shit out of all of our friends. Don’t you think so, Raven?”

Raven doesn’t say anything in response, Clarke feels like all words have been stolen from her, and Lincoln just looks uncomfortable. Lexa is the one to speak up.

“I find that hard to believe,” she says, expression still carefully neutral.

Octavia snorts, as if she wants to disagree.

“Besides,” Lexa says, voice quiet, “Sorting your friends by who causes you the most trouble doesn’t seem very fair.”

Octavia raises her eyebrows.

“Why not?”

Lexa holds her gaze, as well as one can through a phone screen.

“You ignore that you cause just as much trouble for them.”

Clarke nudges her outside of the camera’s view, but Lexa doesn’t flinch, just gives her a sidelong glance. She doesn’t say anything else, though, so Clarke directs her attention back to the screen, where Octavia’s looking either pensive or murderous. The low quality of the videostream makes it hard for Clarke to tell. In the box next to Octavia’s face Lincoln is glaring, obviously trying to give her a warning. Octavia doesn’t pay any attention to him, but when Clarke glances over she sees that the corners of Lexa’s mouth are turned upwards, amused.

“My break’s about to end,” Lincoln says, blessedly interrupting the silence. “Can you head over, Lexa? It’s busier than we expected.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Lexa responds. She’s still looking at Octavia on the screen.

“I should go too,” Raven says, glancing sideways at Octavia. “I’ve got a project that I’m working on.”

Their goodbyes are relatively short. Clarke can tell that everybody wants the conversation to be over. Once the screen goes black, Clarke walks Lexa to the door, and with one last kiss lets her go.

When Clarke goes back up to her room, she looks for a moment at the stuffed bear sitting on the dresser. She takes her phone out and texts Octavia.

(JUN 23, 14:12) that was a really shitty thing to do.

(JUN 23, 14:12) believe me, i know. raven’s already told me.

(JUN 23, 14: 13) but for the record, i didn’t realize that she means that much to you. you were looking at her as if she were like, god or something. i’m sorry.

(JUN 23, 14:14) i’m sorry too.

Clarke thinks it’s best to leave it at that. She’ll talk to Octavia again later, but she knows that it isn't a bad idea for the both of them to use the rest of the day to cool off.

Clarke finds her mother working on her laptop downstairs. She knocks on the side of the archway into the living room. 

"Do you want to watch a few movies? I don't have any plans for the afternoon."

Her mother looks thrilled at the idea, and they go all out, with microwave popcorn, as many blankets as they can find, and the lights turned off.

Later that night, as she’s getting ready for bed, Clarke sends a message to Lexa.

(JUN 23, 22:23) meet up tomorrow?

She doesn’t get a response, but she rationalizes it. Lexa’s probably already sleeping - she has an early shift tomorrow, anyways.

Clarke falls asleep knowing that she can talk to Raven and Octavia again, that she can finally talk to her mother at all, and with her window open to let in the sea breeze. The last thing she thinks about before drifting off is the way Lexa’s fingers felt in her hair, and how impossibly wide her eyes were looking up at hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a year and i miss her a hell of a lot. thank u for showing me that u can be strong and sensitive; that love isn't weakness and that life is about more than just surviving.
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.punkaspadfoot.tumblr.com).
> 
> this was all written in one sitting, and it shows. and it's really short. sorry.


End file.
